


When Cheating isn't Cheating

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz and Prowl are content together even though they can never have sparklings.  Then the impossible happens and their safe, content relationship is thrown into turmoil by a choice that Prowl can't make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Cheating isn't Cheating

Jazz whistled softly to himself as he looked around the room. It wasn't much, but compared to the fact that he hadn't expected to wake up all, just being here and waiting for his mate to return to spend the night with him made it more than enough. Energon, some of the last from the stores that had survived, glowed on the storage crate that he has managed to salvage for a table.

The berth, or what was going to serve as one until they could hopefully fabricate better things, was ready. Padding layered the hard surface, as much as Jazz had been able to find. He knew that Prowl would not claim it for himself, but Jazz was not going to allow anything to hinder what little recharge his mate was going to find. The mech was entirely too dedicated to his function as the Autobot's SIC, Chief Tactician and organizer in general. If Jazz hadn't wheedled a promise from him to be in their berth in four joors before Jazz had left to see what could be salvaged from their original quarters, Prowl would be working for orns yet. Thankfully the Praxian was still willing to indulge his mate, and to listen when Jazz insisted that the Autobot force here on this planet, Earth, would function without them for a little while.

So with only a few kliks left until his mate arrived, Jazz was content to putter around the single-room quarters without a private washrack and try to make it look better than it was. As grateful as he was to be functioning again, as unimaginably grateful that his mate was functioning as well, it still stung how little of their few prized possessions had survived and could be retrieved. Not even Prowl's pre-Golden Age hardform Sovereign set had survived. Jazz saw proof of that much. A few pieces did, but he left them where he'd found them. Prowl could decide if he wanted the reminder later. While he was sure that Prowl's Teris-Spi swords had survived, along with most of his own weapons and what was in their security vault, none of that area was accessible without more digging than Jazz could justify that orn.

For the moment he had to be content with what he had been able to find and hope he could retrieve the other things later. With a small smile he pulled the small crystal statue of a classical Praxian Enforcer out of his subspace and set it in a place of honor. It was a gift that he had given Prowl when he had first started courting the Praxian, and he had taken to carrying it as a luck piece in his subspace when they had joined the Autobots. Now it was time to share it again.

The door slid open behind him, then closed after the mech had stepped inside. Jazz turned to smile at his mate, warmth flooding across the bond as he moved to greet the regal Praxian, taking in the changes from the reformat once more.

Prowl welcomed him with an embrace that was slightly awkward for the new frames and a kiss that expressed all Prowl's gratitude at his mate's survival and continued desire for him.

"Going to have to figure out how to make this work now." Jazz commented with a laugh as the kiss ended, fingers running lightly over the odd angles of his mate's new frame. "Just glad some things didn't change too much." He added, reaching up to trace the broad chevron adorning his mate's helm.

"Agreed," Prowl purred at the touch before catching his mate's hand to kiss each fingertip, sending tingles of sensation down Jazz's arm. "It will be very strange, learning a new frame. It has been some time since you took a new alt."

"Going to have put that blinding processor of yours to work on the problem love." Jazz said with a grin, frame shivering. "Me, I just get to have fun figuring out how to make you moan and cry _my_ designation all over again."

"You will enjoy both sides of the equation far more than I do," Prowl gave a knowing look to his mate, then the glint of crystal caught his attention. "It survived," he smiled warmly as he analyzed the small statue that embodied the ideals of his existence from the moment he was aware enough to know what an Enforcer did.

"It did." Jazz agreed, following his mate's gaze for a moment before his attention turned back to Prowl. "I thought it was time to share it again. Time to get you fueled too."

"And you," Prowl murmured with a light kiss to his mate's stubby sensor horn before sitting on a smaller crate next to their makeshift table. "Your skill with new cultures will be critical in the coming metacycles."

"They certainly look like they are going to an interesting bunch. Friendly enough, but fragile." Jazz said, offering an initial summery. "The variations in culture are going to be fun to look into, once we start looking past setting things up for our survival. And hoping the Decepticons give us a break."

He pushed the cube of energon towards Prowl, silently wanting more and better for his mate, even if that was all that he could provide in the moment.

Prowl's white fingers caressed his black ones in a silent thank you that left no doubt that Prowl understood the wish and shared it. "The political landscape is very messy. However the energy resources available to us in any location on this planet are extensive. If we can not get along with the natives there are vast stretches of land that they do not occupy, and they know nothing of the deeper waters. We can gather energy and be safe here until we can build a new Ark."

"Now instead of a race to find them it's a race to use 'em." Jazz sighed, finger's catching Prowl's to hold his mate's hand as he started on his own energon. "And Prime, being the Prime that he is, has already taken a liking to the humans."

"Yes," Prowl's distaste for that trait of their Prime echoed even more clearly here than it did in meetings even as he held his mate's hand with no intent to let go. "It puts us at a severe disadvantage, though not an insurmountable one. We will simply have to work as we always have and not tell him what he doesn't need to know."

Jazz smiled as he drained the cube. "You'll find a middle point that he can function with. You always do." He praised quietly, the pride in his mate evident.

Prowl lifted Jazz's hand to kiss the knuckle-joints before finishing his own cube. "It is my function. Just as my joy is finding a middle ground with you."

The shudder than ran through Jazz's frame at the gesture and words was visible, and he rose, pulling Prowl with him to claim a kiss full of desire and passion. Prowl returned it willingly, grateful on every level to have the opportunity to be with his mate, the only mecha he'd ever felt desire for, the only one that could ignite _want_ in him with a simple look.

"Thank you for waking up with me," Prowl whispered as the kiss broke slightly.

"Thank you for holding on for me." Jazz responded, continuing the verbal game that echoed the true emotion from his spark. His relief and joy when he had come online after Teletraan-1's work, afraid of what he was going to find and then to feel the completeness of his spark, strong for Prowl to feel.

"Always," Prowl murmured into another kiss as he was willingly drawn to the makeshift berth. "You claimed extra padding." Amusement, thanks and affection danced across the bond and Prowl's field.

"Of course." Jazz said, fingers reaching around to caress a sensor panel. "I took our share, and then went digging on my own." He'd left behind some others things that he could have claimed as his share, but the small sacrifice was nothing compared to Prowl's thanks and the physical comfort that he knew it would bring to his mate. "My spark deserves the best."

"As does mine," Prowl kissed him more ardently, relieved and pleased that their helms had not changed. "The best and so much more."

The mech in his arms purred, the sounds carrying through his frame and into Prowl. "Shall we try out these new forms, and the berth?"

Prowl hummed agreeably before pausing Jazz's movement by delving his glossa into Jazz's oral cavity and exploring it thoroughly.

The mech in his arms melting into the kiss, frame molding awkwardly against Prowl and causing a small ripple of amusement. "Haven't felt this awkward since my mechling upgrades." Jazz chuckled.

"My last time was that first night I tried to take the lead," Prowl nuzzled him and adjusted his grip. Even though their frames were new, he did know his mate this time. It made it easier, somehow. "Let me do that again?" He whispered against Jazz's audial.

"I am going to enjoy this." Jazz said, surrender and agreement clear in the words as he relaxed even more, turning his helm to kiss Prowl's face lightly, the gentlest of accepting touches. "Your lead, lover."

Prowl shivered. The trust it showed warmed him far more than any touch save their sparks. "We will both enjoy it," Prowl promised as he gently laid his mate on his back on the makeshift berth and slid over him. Their extended chest compartments were awkward but manageable to claim a kiss around, even like this. He feathered light touches along that extended chest, exploring the lines of the sturdy racing alt mode from shoulder wheel to front bumper. Has mate relaxed back on the padded surface, arms extending about his helm to stretch his entire frame out before his lover in offering.

It didn't take long for Prowl to work past the chest and onto a traditionally arousing pot; Jazz's side, where the armor came together. Fingers teased while Prowl's glossa trailed along the edges.

Heat flared though his mate, and a low moan of pleasure as Jazz shifted to lean into the touch, hands grabbing at the head of the berth. "Still works." He whispered, encouragement and delight.

"Good," Prowl purred, his attention intensifying as he found every single armor edge sensor and opening to explore, much as he would when he had his lover bound and intended to overload him without even caressing an interface array.

"So good to me." Jazz moaned, his field and the bond open completely so that every sensation could flow to Prowl in full intensity. His bonded always had been, even when they were still learning each other.

"You are so very patient with me," Prowl purred in reply as he reached Jazz's hip and worked his fingers in as deeply as he could on both sides. Love, adoration, loyalty and devotion flowed to Jazz along with how much Prowl enjoyed making him moan.

"Because you are so very worth it. Never wanted anyone else to have my spark." Jazz his frame moving into the touches with bliss and building arousal. Despite the new frame to go with his new alt mode, much of what worked in this context was the same and Prowl shamelessly used a long lifetime together to fan the flames until Jazz was a squirming, whimpering, pleasing mess.

Amazement, as always, flared through the bond as Jazz shuddered, moaned and thrust his hips blindly into the touch that made his systems roar.

Prowl's kiss to Jazz's spike cover elicited an instant response, the cover snapping back as Jazz's pushed into the touch. Even this was an act of surrender from the mech that was so used to being in control of himself, letting go completely for Prowl in a way that was no act. It was not lost on Prowl, a mech who shared his mate's self-controlled disposition.

Prowl rewarded the trust with pleasure and respect. He kissed his way in to place one feather-light kiss centered on the spike housing as his engine purred.

Jazz quivered and moaned again, vocal with his mate as he was with no one else, not even on a mission. "My love."

"My bonded," Prowl purred in reply as he slowly slid his glossa around the rim of the housing, teasing and promising pleasure to the length inside if it would come out for him. "The only mecha for me."

With a soft sound the spike catch released, allowing Jazz's spike to emerge into that promise of pleasure, eagerness and adoration radiating from Jazz. Unable to resist he reached up, fingers stroking lightly over the brilliant chevron just in his reach. Prowl purred more deeply and pressed into the touch, welcoming the affection as he slid his glossa along the conical tip of his lover's emerging spike before taking it between his lip plates, humming softly to draw another moan from his mate.

"Oh Primus Prowl, so perfect." Jazz moaned, hands falling to twist into the padding of the berth. The way his mate, his bonded, was able to do this, to bring such pleasure with glossa and sound, was something that still amazed Jazz every time the skill was turned on him. The knowledge that it was just for him, only for him, _learned_ for him, on him, was enough to stall his processor.

Prowl's purr briefly deepened to a rumble as he coaxed the spike that had taught him about pleasure from its housing and lavished it with attention. This, like his beloved's helm, had not changed. He was eager to taste Jazz once more, to know what internal changes had been created.

His mate whined softly, hips rolling into the blissful heat of his mate's mouth and the talented glossa teasing and pleasuring him.

"Want you." Jazz moaned, "Your touch. Your mouth, valve, spike. Your spark. All of you."

"Always, anytime," Prowl promised as he briefly allowed Jazz's spike to slip free before doing down on it again, taking it all the way into his intake and swallowing around it eagerly.

"Prowl!" The cry was eager, Jazz's frame arching off the berth and into the pleasure as his was driven to overload. Bliss roared through him, spreading into his field and across the bond as he spilled into Prowl's mouth. The offering was tasted and swallowed eagerly as Prowl continued to hum his pleasure at bringing such bliss to the mech that had taught him that existence could have more joys than work.

He continued to work the spike until Jazz was a lovely puddle of mech on the berth before sliding his helm up to give the tip a final kiss. He slid his hands under Jazz's knees and lifted his mate's legs up, exposing his valve to a kiss. "Ready for more?" Prowl purred.

"Please." Jazz moaned, managing to somehow get his vocalizer to function through the haze of pleasure still clouding his processor. He moaned and shivered again when the kiss became a deep, delving effort of Prowl's glossa to map the intimate space as well as he mapped Jazz's oral cavity. How Prowl managed to work this like he did was a wonder to Jazz, but one that he had never had any desire to question as he squirmed and moaned at the attention, all the more eager because he knew what was coming once his mate was satisfied that he was sufficiently warmed up.

Their vents were whirling fast when Prowl's helm came up and he shifted over his lover, sliding his spike into that warm slickness his glossa had abandoned. "You feel so good," Prowl moaned as he began to rock, a slow, sweet buildup that promised to leave them both dazed.

Jazz sighed, relaxing a little and allowing the pleasure to build slowly. This was something that Prowl had shown him, taught him, but something that he now enjoyed as it was meant to be enjoyed.

The slow pleasure, the time spent with a lover to make it good because it could be like this, was something that he only had with Prowl. Something that he only wanted with his bonded.

"Primus gave us perfection." He said with a smile as he reached up to stroke the face and helm of his love. Lip plates curved in a small smile and pleasure occasionally caught a finger for a kiss or to suck on, but for the most part Prowl enjoyed letting him touch as he pleased. Even after so long, it never became repetitive.

"Yes," Prowl moaned, shivering faintly as his charge reached a critical point where it began to interfere with his physical control. His hands found Jazz's hips and fingers dug in, rubbing against inner cabling while the pace picked up. "Glad this hasn't changed."

"Never with you. Always yours." Jazz moaned, charge dancing through his frame to tease at Prowl's, the energy of another overload building to match his mate's in a way that only practice, desire, and familiarity could cause. It had taken long vorns of work on both their parts to become so familiar and they both reveled in earning that reward.

"Always yours," Prowl agreed, his pace picking up once more as his hips began to jerk. His features went a bit slack as all his attention turned inward, to the pleasure that was building from the slide of his frame inside his mate's. It never, not once, failed to amaze him how much better this felt that his own hand. How much stronger and more fulfilling the release was when it finally came simply because it was with Jazz. He never stopped being thankful for it either.

"Prowl." Jazz moaned, visor going dark as he grabbed at his mate's frame, hips rolling up as he sought and found that last little bit that pushed him over the edge into a place he was always willing to fall. The rush of pleasure and emotion over the bond was intense, and all of it was centered around his mate. He felt Prowl's reply, rich and hot with a passion that so few could see he possessed.

Prowl's bellow as he overloaded and pumped crackling transfluid deep into his mate shook them both. Pale blue optics flared white with bliss while his frame locked and fell from his control. As he slowly regained a sense of himself, Prowl rolled his hips against his lover's, teasing a last bit of pleasure from their frames while his excitement for what came next grew.

The motion drew another soft moan from Jazz, the mech still a limp frame beneath him. "Love you, so much." Jazz whispered softly, the emotion in his voice reflected in his spark.

Prowl smiled and resorted to his battle computer to figure out how to kiss his mate given their new configurations in this position. "With all my spark," he murmured as their lips parted and his chest armor unlocked.

"Mine is all yours." Jazz smiled, as his armor unlocked and folded away, making the desired kiss much easier to manage as the blue light of his spark spilled out to join the almost-white ice blue of his mate's. Even after so long, it made Jazz's vents stall to see and know that a spark so close to becoming a High Priest's was _his_ , willingly and eagerly.

Prowl's adoration and devotion bloomed across the rapidly strengthening connection between their sparks as the first leaders reached out, eager to mingle, merge and become one once more. Wonder and joy flooded back at being able to feel this once more. The clear memory of the fear that the next time he would feel his mate would be in the Well, if Prowl would have been there to join him, and the assurance that Jazz would have looked and waited forever.

Prowl's spark replied with a calm certainty that they would meet again, and whoever was in the Well of All Sparks first would not suffer for the separation. Despite all that had happened, all they had both suffered and witnessed and done, Prowl still _believed_ in Primus and that perfect existence once the frame was abandoned. Joy filled the connection as Jazz's spark reached for it's other half. The only thing that made it complete, and surrounded it with love and desire. Jazz's spark was similarly filled and embraced, flooded with the core essence and what was _Prowl_ without the glitch, the tac-net and programming.

~Beloved. Other half. My joy.~ Prowl's spark moaned, words finally able to be transmitted in a way their processors understood.

~My spark. My life. My all.~ The deepest truth that was Jazz answered, acknowledging and reaffirming all that Prowl was. Prowl was his reason for functioning, all he had ever wanted and all that he would ever need. They had overcome all challenges in their functionings together, survived this long in the war, and still touched perfection in the other.

~Forever,~ Prowl moaned, his frame shuddering as the merge reached the depth where words no longer mattered. There was truth, their spark, and the exquisite bliss of unity they never expected to know again in their frames when they had fallen off line with the fall of the Ark.

* * *

Less than six decaorns on Earth, not even a full metacycle, and Prowl had all but given up having an existence outside his office. Between the massively complex, frequently contradictory and often illogical legal and financial system that had been cobbled together by the humans and then by Prowl, he had enough work for three aids as well as himself. He would need another two to handle the nightmare that was controlling two units worth of mecha who were not used to each other or integrating a command structure trying to cohabitate in a space too small for even one of the units. Even though they had dug out much of the Ark's buried sections, little of it was exactly what one could call habitable. Thus mecha were stuck with cramming three, four and even a full gestalt of five into quarters built for only one. Even the twins and he and Jazz had to accept a roommate when Ultra Magnus' crew had moved in. Only the Prime has individual quarters, and that was for the simple fact that every mecha would rather recharge in the hallway than invade their Prime's personal space and time.

Then there was the effort that almost made him whimper trying to understand how to make it work. The permits, legalities and assorted difficulties in breaking ground on Autobot City to have the site ready for Metroplex's arrival only a metacycle from now.

The door to his small office slid open, allowing his mate to enter and slip around the work station to come up behind the Praxian.

"You are stressing yourself again." Jazz commented softly, hands rising to work the tense door wings with gentle, knowing fingers.

Prowl couldn't stifle the groan or the way he pressed into the touch. "There is so much to do." Despite the words he leaned into his mate's field with a warm, happy-to-have-him-there caress of his own.

"You work better when your processor is working at its full capacity. And you and I both know that it doesn't when you are like this." Jazz commented, leaning in closer to kiss the back of Prowl's neck. Prowl could only hum something like agreement through the low moan of pleasure as his armor relaxed, offering his mate access to his inner workings and cables.

Jazz continued to work on his mate, humming a soft tune that was meant to relax his mate and warm him. Once he could feel Prowl beginning to melt under his fingers he leaned in and nuzzled Prowl. "Is this helping, love?"

"Yes," Prowl murmured, only half aware in his relaxed state.

A warm kiss was timed with a pulse over the bond. "I know this helps." Jazz whispered, "But I know something else that will help even more."

"Mumm?" Prowl made a sound more than a word.

All contact vanished, leaving in a blur through Prowl's office door. "Come get it."

There were several nanokliks while Prowl's processors caught up with what was going on while surrounded in the warmth of feeling good. Then he was gone. Protocols from a previous existence roared to the forefront of his awareness with a blaze of flashing lights and siren.

Escaping.

Target must not escape.

Mocking laughter echoed through the halls of the Ark as a counter to the siren, trailing Jazz as he exited the crashed ship and transformed with a bound. Dust and rock flew as he took off across the desert, kicked up in challenge to his mate.

Prowl was after him, his spark pulsing fast inside him, his engine roaring and sirens wailing after his mate, hungry for the catch, the thrill of gaining ground and maneuvering his prey to a stop with superior skill. And it took all of his considerable skill to catch his mate any more. Jazz had practically perfected the art of escape, and he gave Prowl no advantage in an open chase like this.

It was exactly what Prowl reveled in. It got his engine going, his spark racing, energy flowing _fast_ through his frame and cleared his processors in a way nothing else could as the core-level protocols of a Praxian Enforcer cleared away everything to focus on the life and death reality of a high speed chase.

Prowl reveled in it as he reveled in few things, because there was no thinking for him at this stage. He simply _did_.

It freed him at the same time it indulged his need to be an Enforcer and perform that important function.

Jazz knew it, knew what it did to and for his mate, and knew when a release like this was needed. Prowl would catch him and claim him, then return to his work sated and much better able to function for local days afterward.

It was also a way for Jazz to spend time with his mate, a scarce commodity even now. And one that he tried to make the most of as a sharp right dropped him into a canyon. Prowl was on his bumper, utterly without fear as he followed his more agile mate and tried to use superior processing power and a slightly more powerful engine to make up the difference.

At barely three lengths apart, they could almost teek.

The twists and turns of the narrow space gave Jazz some advantage. He never entirely knew what his mate was going to do to end it. Sometimes Prowl simply settled for literally pinning him against a wall. Other times the Praxian managed to corner him. Sometimes it even turned into a rolling tackle, which Jazz knew from teeking that Prowl reveled in the most.

One thing these chases never were was boring.

While Jazz didn't get quite the high his mate did, it was exciting, and nothing that got Prowl _this_ aroused could end up being a bad thing.

Suddenly Prowl was _right on his bumper_ , slightly offset, and Jazz abruptly found himself spinning.

He immediately corrected for the spin, even though he knew that he didn't have a chance of escape now. His field teeked of glee and challenge.

Even if the chase was over he wasn't going to give in without a fight, shifting back into root mode as he managed to check his momentum and find his pedes. Prowl was on him with a tackle before he had fully oriented to face his lover. Prowl's field was as far from the calm, centered tactician as was possible for him to be. He was aroused, excited and with a raging determination to dominate that only came from a good chase. It wasn't an effect that Prowl could let happen in a real criminal chase, but when his mate ran, he could indulge in what the chase did to him.

Jazz could feel it, how much Prowl reveled in the process, and also how hot his mate was. His spike was already out, rubbing against Jazz's side.

"For me officer?" Jazz asked, grinning at his mate with the same mocking expression and tone. His frame told a different story, field teeking of excitement and desire, the scent of lubricant reaching them both from the exposed valve.

"Oh yes," Prowl growled as he continued to rub against Jazz's flank as he shifted to press his lover chest down and aft up, then spread Jazz's legs with his own. "You are _mine_." He growled and pressed two fingers deep into Jazz's valve. "No one runs from me and escapes punishment."

"Punishment officer? I ran, but why-" Jazz gasped and pressed back into the invading fingers, valve calipers cycling down to squeeze in anticipation. "Why were you chasing me?"

"Because you ran," Prowl rumbled, his spike aching to bury itself into that slick, tight heat he could feel and the field of his love but he felt back, determined to make his mate moan first. "You dared me to catch you, and I have."

"I guess I deserved to be punished then." Jazz agreed, his pushing back in an attempt to take those fingers, something, anything, deeper into his aching valve. "Do your best officer."

"I'll make you _scream_ my designation," Prowl growled, thrusting his spread fingers as he held Jazz down as best he could.

"Yes!" Jazz agreed again. "Please." He added, moaning and frame shaking in his desire. When he could get his mate like this it did things to him that Jazz didn't even bother trying to explain. All he cared about was the benefits it brought them both and the pleasure he was able to share with the only mech his spark desired. "Take me. Punish me. Mark me."

Prowl's engine roared as the fingers came and out and he drove his spike in, seating it all the way to the housing in a single motion. His hands gripped Jazz's hips as he pounded into his mate, reveling in the pleasure, the chase-high and _Jazz_ against him.

Keens of pleasure cries of encouragement met each thrust. To someone on the outside it might have looked as though Jazz was trying to escape. In reality the mech was doing everything he could to match the intensity of his mate, moving with the strong hands on his hips into each thrust and reveling in the waves of pleasure washing through his frame and across the bond.

This was what he had worked so hard for, what he had _earned_ through persistence, acceptance and careful tenderness in educating Prowl that love existed and was worth it. He knew through their bond that Prowl loved him with all his spark and loved that he thought to initiate this game even more than the game itself. Which given the power behind his thrusts and his tight grip as he grunted with each jarring thrust, was a tremendous amount.

Prowl was only given the briefest of warnings as Jazz's overload surged through him, intense enough to lock his entire frame in his mate's hands and white out Jazz's awareness in a static bliss. Prowl willingly allowed the rush of energy into his spike take him over as well and bellowed his pleasure as he flooded his mate with his crackling transfluid, adding that much more charge to Jazz's bliss.

Jazz was relaxed in Prowl's hands as he came down from the high, vents working furiously to dispel the heat from his frame as Jazz quivered. "Is that all, officer?" He asked, still shaky as he found his voice once more.

"Oh no," Prowl grinned and pulled out. He roughly pulled Jazz around, still on his knees, and pressed his spike against his mate's lips. "I'll fill you from both ends first."

A glossa slipped out to caress the end as one hand came up to run the length, tenderly feeling out every bit of texture slicked by their mixed fluids. Prowl hummed and rubbed his thumbs around Jazz's stubby sensor horns in encouragement.

Jazz moaned at the touch that could melt him any orn, turning him into a puddle of molten mech. But right now there was something far more important to focus on as took his lover's spike between his lips, humming softly as he slowly started taking the length. The reward of Prowl's moan of pleasure and the flare of it across their mingled fields and Prowl's fingers tightened around his helm.

"That's right, service me well and I'll reward you," Prowl moaned, shamelessly sinking fully into the fantasy he'd never dare admit to anyone else even existed.

With his mouth occupied Jazz's answer came in the form of a submissive flare of agreement in his field and a wash of love over the bond as his glossa worked the wonderful texture of his mate's spike, caressing every flared ridge along the length as his intake tightened around the tip for moment.

Above him Prowl shuddered at the attention, his intakes and armor panting in heat and pleasure as he began to rock into the exquisite sensations. "So good. I think I'll keep you forever, cuff you to my berth to service me whenever I want."

The image drew another moan from his lover, just how much Jazz liked the idea evident in his renewed attention to the spike. Lips finally met the housing, and Jazz started to hum at a frequency he knew got his lover off as his glossa and intake worked the spoke in a complex pattern developed over vorns of practice to hit every sensor node he could reach.

"Ohhh yesss!" Prowl hissed, trembling at the onslaught on attention. "Never going to let another touch you," he moaned feverishly. "My secret, how good you are, how tight and hot your valve is. Maybe even give your spike a workout now and then. I'm always revved up when I get off shift. Racing with coworkers after just makes it worse. Going to give you such a workout every orn."

And he knew that Jazz would give this to him, every orn, if Prowl wanted. The mech had never refused his mate pleasure, and the teek of Jazz's field revealed just how much he loved doing this. There was nothing demeaning in any act that made Prowl so hot and worked up. There was only a special kind of bliss from bringing such pleasure to one mech Jazz adored with all of his spark.

It was a sensation and processor set that Prowl knew well. Even before Jazz and understanding the outlet options for his revved up state, he felt much the same from pleasing his superior by doing his function well. He knew it from the joy he felt when he did something that made Jazz feel exceptionally good, or pushed himself a little out of his comfort to please his mate. There was incredible pleasure to be had in making the other half of his spark feel special.

Another moan was torn from his vocalizer as his hips began to thrust into the delicious attention, seeking the release he was close to.

Jazz took it all with ease, accommodating the motion of his mate and the hand on his helm, and enjoying every second of it as reached for that last little bit that would tip Prowl over the edge.

Slender fingers found their way into the Praxian's hips joints, seeking the sensors and wires buried underneath and tweaking them just so and Prowl moaned into another trembling shudder. Hands shifted on Jazz's helm and Prowl began to thrust. The charge building from his spike crackled along his plating, focused where his frame met his lover's.

"Jazzzz," Prowl's moan was soft and low, the designation entwined with sub glyphs and harmonics of love and devotion and appreciation.

There was an answering moan from his mate as Jazz quivered under Prowl hands, the charge teasing him as he sought to give his mate the release Prowl was seeking, to feel him go over the edge and taste the results of their pleasure. No matter how many times he did, it was as rewarding as the first time he'd given Prowl an overload, as rewarding as the first time Prowl, still just a mid-ranked Enforcer, had admitted to his kink for chase-catch-spike it, even though the Praxian had no idea it was a kink at the time. It had been a huge admission, an act of great trust from Prowl's perspective. For Jazz, it was a wonderful moment to remember, one of the key stepping stones in their relationship and the first one that had given him the first hope of forever.

Prowl leaned forward, almost hunching over as he thrust harder, jerking his hips until his entire frame locked up and began to pump transfluid into his mate's intake. Every drop was swallowed with ease, the charged fluid tingling down Jazz's intake and into his tanks as he held his mate firmly and continued to work the spike, determined to draw this pleasure out as long as possible for them both. He only stilled when Prowl went lax above him, the grip shifting from controlling to holding for support.

"Amazed no one claimed you before I did," Prowl panted, an almost traditional phrase indicated he was settled and sated.

Jazz drew back slowly, licking and sucking his mate clean gently before lifting his helm at the end to look up at his mate, asking for a kiss. It was delivered, shaky but full of soft, loving passion that touched everything intimate between them.

"No one else could hold my attention. No one else made me want them simply by _being_. You are one of a kind. And you are mine."

"Yes, all yours, only yours," Prowl smiled as he helped Jazz stand, then knelt to wipe off the evidence of their activities. Not that he was the least bit ashamed, but they were senior officers and some level of decorum was expected, at least by Prowl. "As you are mine."

Jazz pulled him close for another kiss when Prowl rose. "Feel better?" He asked softly.

"Yes," Prowl relaxed in the embraced. "Thank you."

* * *

After nine decaorns on Earth, Prowl could no longer ignore the unpleasant draining sensation on his spark and systems. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to be noticeable. Once upon a time he would have thought he was carrying a newspark, but that was decidedly impossible. Beyond the difficulties he and Jazz had creating one, they both had hardware blocks to prevent it. After four attempts for himself and two for Jazz, they could not take losing another newspeak in the first three metacycles. It was better to never feel the new life beginning. As much as it had hurt those first few centuries, adopting the occasional orphan that came into their camp had settled them both. It was good to raise a creation, but neither felt the need to have it be from their own frames.

Prowl now wondered how many centuries it would take him to settle this time. It couldn't be what it felt like, but it still rekindled in him how much he wanted to be a creator.

With a resigned sigh he got up from his desk and walked to the medbay. Ratchet did not have anyone in there at the moment. It was a perfect time to ask him to try and work out what was causing the strange sensation.

The medic was preoccupied with adjusting the settings on one of his instruments as Prowl entered, recalibrating it after having taking it apart for cleaning if the various supplies scattered around the work surface were in indication.

"Prowl." Ratchet acknowledged him, not even looking up. "What do you need?"

"I have been getting odd feedback from my power and spark monitoring systems. If you have time to calibrate them now?" Prowl asked diplomatically.

The medic motioned to an empty medical berth with one hand. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you in a breem, if it is nothing urgent."

"I do not believe it is," Prowl assured him as settled on the indicated berth smoothly. He quietly went over what was unusual until Ratchet came over.

"Now." Ratchet said as he started a basic scan. "What has been bothering you specifically? And I am going to assume that your mate has kept you refueling and recharging on what for you at least is a regular basis."

"Yes, Ratchet," Prowl replied without expressing his exasperation. "The feedback can only be described as that of having a newspark, perhaps a decaorn or so old. We both know that is impossible, so it is likely a calibration issue."

Ratchet grunted in agreement, studying the results of his initial scan. Though his expression did not show it, the results all paralleled with the sensations that Prowl was describing, the energy drains being almost picture perfect for a mecha of Prowl's make and design supporting a new spark of that exact age.

He crossed to where he kept the specialized scanners locked away in a cabinet and found the one that was calibrated to read sparks. "Have you and Jazz been merging regularly?"

"Such as our work schedules permit, yes," Prowl answered, curious at the question. "Once every four orns on average since our awakening."

"I can't imagine it being an issue in mecha that have been bonded as long as the two of you, but sometimes a drastic shift in merging habits can throw spark calibration off." Ratchet explained as he set the scanner. "Open up please. I might as well get the most accurate reading I can from the beginning."

Prowl did so without hesitation. His armor split and folded down, exposing much of his internals as he commanded his spark chamber to rise and iris open. It wasn't pleasant to have such a direct reading, but there was no reason to delay the inevitable.

Slowly Ratchet conducted his scan. His focus narrowed, and he ran another one before stepping back, his field neutral.

"You can close up now." He instructed as he contemplated the results, and the implications, as he studied the mech on the berth.

Prowl studied him back, his concern growing rapidly when his hypothesis was not confirmed.

"I'm sorry Prowl." Ratchet started, already priming his systems and finding Jazz's comm number in preparation for whatever reaction he might get from the Praxian. "Your guess was correct. You are carrying a newspark. Approximately a decaorn old."

"How is that possible?" Prowl asked, edging towards demanding as he struggled to stave off the raw horror building in his spark at what this meant.

"My guess would be that when Teletraan performed the rebuilds anything that was not in your warframe specs was considered non-essential and cannibalized for other purposes." Ratchet said as he laid aside the scanner. "Would you like to call Jazz?"

The Praxian nodded weakly and pinged his mate with an urgent-personal comm.

::What is it?:: Jazz asked, answering instantly. Urgent calls from his mate were few and far between, and reason for concern.

::I need you to come to medbay. Now.:: Prowl replied, his stress showing in his voice. ::I am in no danger,:: he added as an afterthought.

::On my way.:: Jazz didn't even bother asking what was wrong. He simply raced to the med bay as fast as he could, marching in and heading straight to his bonded, brushing past Ratchet to pull Prowl close. His bonded's field was all wrong. Jazz knew what a pending crash felt like, and this wasn't it. This was horror-fear-grief with a heavy load of shock.

"Jazz," Prowl whispered as he burrowed into the contact and pulled his mate even more tightly against him, needing the steadying presence desperately right now.

Jazz rocked his mate in his arms, holding him close as he concentrated on Ratchet. "What is wrong?" He demanded, voice a growl as he felt Prowl's stress and tried to soothe it.

"Your bonded is carrying a newspark. Approximately a decaorn old." Ratchet answered, his response as straight forward as the question.

Shock tried to freeze Jazz's frame, and only his mate's frame in his arms and Prowl's obvious distress kept him from locking up. "What?"

"Prowl is carrying a newspark," Ratchet repeated, far more gentle that he would normally be. He knew what they were facing. "The blocker hardware is missing. Likely cannibalized when Teletraan reformatted everyone."

A low sob came from Prowl and he shook harder while grief flared in Jazz before he could get a grip on it, trying to push it down in light of how bad his mate was hurting. "How...how is it?" He asked, managing to get the question out, not daring to hope. Not after all the times before. They had both had their sparks broken too many times, suffered from the losses, to have any hope left.

Ratchet could only shake his helm. "It's weak. Too weak to have any chance of survival beyond the unacceptable."

"An outsider." Jazz sighed, still rocking Prowl gently in his arms as the Praxian began to break down completely.

The first time he had carried he had hoped to be strong enough. The second time he had carried he had almost begged Prowl to let him bring someone in, but it had been too late.

And Prowl...the mere idea of letting anyone else in was somewhere between horrifying and terrifying. No one other than Jazz had ever touched him. It had taken Jazz centuries to earn that privilege.

"Yes," Ratchet hesitated, torn between not wanting to strain the pair and needing to save the first newspark in so long, but Prowl was past hearing him, and Jazz just might be able to reach his mate before it was too late. "It doesn't need to be a lover. Prime, or a medic, we can handle this as the medical procedure it can be."

Jazz vented softly, optics dim as he tucked Prowl close. "Do you need him here any longer?"

"No," the medic shook his helm. "There is nothing my equipment can do for him."

"I'll see what I can do." Jazz said softly, nudging his mate over the bond and helping Prowl to his feet, determined to get his mate back to their quarters as quickly as possible. "You will put him on medical leave? And me as well, please. And Bluestreak will need to bunk with someone else now."

"I'll get it done," Ratchet promised. "Comm me if either of you need anything. Sedatives, a shoulder..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Just an orn or two before you tell Prime, 'less he asks." Jazz said, guiding Prowl firmly but gently from the room.

"I can give you that," Ratchet nodded, watching as Prowl blindly huddled against his mate and followed without question. ::Red Alert, would you clear the corridors between here and their quarters. The crew does not need to see this.::

::Agreed.:: The solemn reply came back. ::They will not be seen.::

Ratchet, for his part, knew full well he did not want to know how it was arranged, but he was grateful all the same.

* * *

How he had gotten his mate to their quarters, fueled, and down on the berth without running into anyone Jazz wasn't even entirely sure. But once Prowl had dropped into a fitful recharge Jazz curled around his mate, holding him tight and trying to think through his grief.

Six attempts.

Six spark breaking losses.

He wasn't sure that either of them could take going through that again. Not when so many others had been lost already. All of their foster creations but one, the mech currently bunking with them, had deactivated in the war.

Maybe it was for the best to let this one fade and try to make it through the loss again. Creating a sparkling in this war surely had to be a form of cruelty somehow.

It was a moot point though, since Jazz doubted that Prowl would take an outsider, but Ratchet's statement about it being a medical procedure refused to go away. He'd lost track of time when Prowl began to boot again, the process reluctant and hazy in that way of knowing there was going to be a lot of pain in the near future.

Jazz pulled him close, hands running over his mate in a smooth, soothing motion as he allowed his field to flow out and around Prowl, full of love and support to smooth the jagged edges that were quickly developing.

The first sound out of Prowl was a sob as he tried to curl more tightly in on himself, radiating the misery of a mech who wanted nothing more than to deactivate so the pain would stop.

"Shhhh, love." Jazz murmured, snuggling his frame against the Praxian one and sending love over the bond between them. "I am here. WE are together. We will get through this."

Prowl sobbed again, his emotional centers so charged that they forced his tac-net off line before it could even boot. The bond, however, flared with thanks and devotion amongst the pain.

"Go ahead." Jazz encouraged gently. "Get it out. Then we can talk."

As difficult as the suggestion was to go with, Prowl's spark was in too much pain to allow his higher functions to interfere. He keened and shook, his field flaring out randomly as the surges of emotion cascaded out of control. Eventually they settled, however, just as it always happened, and Prowl quieted as the intensity waned into a numbness.

"My love." Jazz whispered, easing from where he had held Prowl through the entire episode, hands going back to rubbing as he nuzzled Prowl, then reached for a cube of energon. "Here."

Prowl drank without question, barely recognizing what he'd been handed as he leaned into the contact and his mate. He needed it, that support, even though he knew Jazz was in little better shape than he was, and he was greedy enough for it to take what was offered without considering the consequences fully.

"I know you don't want to, but we need to talk." Jazz said quietly.

"I don't know if I can take this again," Prowl shivered. "What is to discuss?"

"Taking an outsider." Jazz said quietly, feeling his mate's pain and wondering if it would be enough to possibly drive Prowl to consider the idea. The war had changed them so much already...

The abject _horror_ at the suggestion was entirely out of proportion in Jazz's estimation. It was far worse than what he remembered from before. But the intensity also gave Jazz a refresher on why Prowl objected so much.

Betrayal.

He pulled Prowl close, placing their sparks as close as he could and cursed the frames that Teletraan had reformatted them into. "It is NOT. It is a chance. A chance to avoid _that_ pain again."

"But it won't be you," Prowl tried to explain something that he was sure was core-level coding in him.

"I can't save this." Jazz pointed out, pressing his hand to Prowl's chest and not even bothering to hide his grief at the fact. "But if someone else can, someone who can treat it like a medical procedure, isn't it worth it?"

"It's a _spark merge_!" Prowl lost what tiny grip on rational thought that he'd gained. "My spark is _yours_."

"And it always will be. Always." Jazz promised him. "And energy merge. A chance to raise what we have always wanted. Our own creation. Please." Jazz begged, quivering and so very close to breaking. They were both so distressed, in so much pain. He wasn't sure that either of them would be able to do this again. To come through the pain and the grief functional in any sense of the term.

As Prowl's did for Jazz, Jazz's distress reached Prowl when nothing else could. The Praxian trembled terribly, but he could not deny his mate, even though he could not grant it either. So he gave all he could. "I will try."

"Ratchet says...he can make it a medical thing. Detached. He practically volunteered." Jazz said, trying to paint it in a good light, trying to ease both their distress.

"Medical?" Prowl looked at him, wary, hurting, with a desperate war going on inside him as to which was the more horrific pain: losing his fifth newspark, or merging with _another_.

"Yes. Medical. Nothing more expected from you, and nothing more in the offering." Jazz said, hoping that he was telling his mate the truth, since he hadn't stopped to get details from Ratchet. Normally the medic was very straightforward about such things though, and Jazz had come to know well Ratchet's definition of 'medical' over the vorns.

Prowl gulped air through vents and shifting armor, but the numbness served its function and allowed him to process in a more detached way. "With ... who?"

"Ratchet might be willing to do it. Or have suggestions for others who can make it a medical procedure." Jazz said, gentle and slow enough for his mate to follow.

"But ... sparks..." Prowl could only shudder as he kept hitting that point. "I ... I could ... probably lay there for it. After ... how do I _see_ them again, knowing what happened? What we did...."

"By feeling this-" Jazz stroked his chest, "growing stronger every time, instead of fading?" He suggested, hopeful.

"But it wouldn't be _ours_ anymore, it would be partly ... part someone else. Someone with a claim." Prowl murmured, his processors sluggish and disorganized without his tac-net active.

"We can talk about that. Make sure they are willing to relinquish any claim. And we can talk to Ratchet- make sure I can merge with you often. Every time." Jazz suggested. He felt something wound too tight to be healthy begin to uncoil deep inside his mate and a soft, is halting purr escape Prowl at the prospect of merging with him.

"Contract. I remember those used to exist. They didn't always work, but it was solid legally," Prowl tried to work himself up to it. "You'd be there, every time? Be _with_ me every time?"

"Holding you the entire time." Jazz promised, stroking Prowl gently, "And then taking your spark as mine, all of you." Jazz purred. 

Prowl shivered, eager for that. "I never wanted anything else. Just you."

* * *

::Hey, Ratchet, can you meet now? I've got Prowl in a sort-of rational place,:: Jazz pinged the CMO as he cleaned up his mate from a round of interfacing that had made them both feel much better.

::If you think he is ready, I will make time.:: Ratchet answered. ::He is considering it then?::

::He has agreed to at least listen, and at least think about it.:: Jazz replied.

::Your quarters, or bring him here?:: Ratchet asked as he hurriedly handed off the maintenance he was doing to First Aid and went to his office to gather the materials he'd dug up on the subject.

::Quarters.:: Jazz answered without pause. ::He's up to talking. Not facing the rest of the world.::

::I'll be there in a few kliks,:: the CMO promised before closing the line.

Jazz sighed and shifted Prowl close. "Ratchet is on his way." He informed the Praxian. "Want anything before he gets here? Energon?"

Prowl hummed and drew his mate even closer. "A few more kisses."

Those Jazz was happy to give, tipping his mate's hem around and touching his lips tenderly to the Praxian's. "Yours, whenever you wish them, love. All you have to do is say the word." He promised.

Prowl purred and slid his hands along Jazz's back, indulging in the attention until Ratchet pinged for admittance. "I suppose we shouldn't make him wait," Prowl murmured as he signaled the door to open, even as he didn't let his mate go.

"Not when we asked him to come." Jazz agreed, shifting them both around so that they were facing the door and greeted the medic. Prowl snuggled against his mate, somewhere between seeking comfort and seeking protection.

"Ratchet. Help yourself to the chair. Or the empty bunk, whichever you want. Haven't gotten around to moving it back to storage yet." Jazz offered with a general wave towards the rest of the room.

Ratchet pulled the chair closer and sat down. "You do look like you are doing a bit better."

"Time to process does help," Prowl murmured, his tone telling Ratchet instantly that his tac-net was functionally off-line.

"He's ready to listen to the details, Doc. What all would be involved, and with who." Jazz supplied, laying out a starting point for Ratchet as he held Prowl, knowing how much strength and comfort his mate could take from even a simple embrace.

Ratchet hummed and looked between them. "Maybe we can start with what about being with another is so stressful, as best you can explain it?"

Prowl shuddered, going into one of the darkest places in himself almost immediately before fighting his way back after a klik. He took a deep breath of air in and tried to hold his voice steady. "Jazz is the only one who's ever touched me. The only one I've ever wanted to touch. It ... betrayal, even if he doesn't feel so strongly."

"And it is just worse because you have to choose between the newspark and what you feel is a betrayal of your mate?" Ratchet guessed, his tone once again much more gentle than normal. These were mecha who were trying and they were hurt through no real fault of their own. If anyone was to blame, he was. They had both been in his medbay before the newspark had been created. He should have picked up something, but he hadn't.

Prowl nodded weakly. "I ... I don't know if I can be part of an ... interface ... with anyone else. Just laying there and letting it happen it hard enough to accept."

"Would it be easier if you didn't overload?" Ratchet asked carefully. As unpleasant a prospect as it was for him, Ratchet had to consider the patient's best interest over his own.

"Yes," Prowl's answer came too fast.

"Normally I wouldn't advise it for psychological reasons, but there is nothing inherent in the act of adding spark energy that requires the carrier to overload. It is very normal to, but not actually required. Only the one donating energy has to overload," Ratchet explained. "Simply being willing and merging sparks enough to transfer the energy to the newspark is typically sufficient to do so."

"What about that love?" Jazz asked softly, nuzzling his mate before looking at Ratchet. "I would be there the whole time, with you. Maybe even taking care of him as a thank you before claiming my mate as my own."

It seemed like little to Jazz, what he was offering Ratchet for what the medic was willing to do for them, but he hoped it would make it easier on everyone all around.

"Thank you, but it will be unnecessary," Ratchet said firmly, knowing full well that Prowl shared Jazz only slightly more willingly than he did his own frame. "The best thing you can do is to take Prowl's processors off what happened. The more he associates the energy that is donated with you, the easier it will be for the newspark to absorb it."

"I will try," Prowl whispered, only just holding onto his will to do so. 

"So I could merge with him as soon as you were done. Integrate the energy with my own?" Jazz homed in on that idea, focused as he held Prowl tighter and the first wisps of real hope rose in him.

"It would be preferable that you do so," Ratchet encouraged it, knowing that it would limit the odds that Prowl fight the additional energy significantly.

"When?" Prowl asked, shaking physically as he burrowed against his mate but reasonably steady in his emotional center for the moment.

Ratchet studied the mech, giving him a moment to settle against Jazz once more. "The sooner the better, to start strengthening the spark. I would say within the next half metacycle at most." Ratchet knew that was going to strain Prowl. It would have been a hard adjustment for the mech to make with a century to think about it and rationalize the need. Such a short time frame was only to place a carrier under additional stress.

Prowl nodded, forcing himself to still. He still looked like an oversized sparkling seeking comfort from a creator, but he couldn't care. He couldn't stop that. He could make his frame stop rattling.

For a little while at least.

"I don't need to be paying much attention?" Prowl checked.

"No." Ratchet admitted. "In fact, you can turn your optics off and be hardlined with your mate for the entire process if that will make it more tolerable."

Prowl glanced up at Jazz, seeking permission almost.

"Of course we will love, if it will help. I will be there the entire time, in your thoughts and holding your frame." Jazz assured him.

"It will help," Prowl said, more hope than assurance. The entire concept still make him sick, but maybe with Jazz there, holding him, with him, he could manage not to scream and fight as he did in the nightmares that occasionally claimed him. "Did you bring a basic contract?" He looked at Ratchet.

"I have several forms." Ratchet said, offering them a datapad. "All of them can be easily modified to fit whatever needs and desires you might have. Have you thought about the specifics?"

"Surrender of all sire rights, gag order with a limited medical exception." Prowl began to flip through the contracts. He quickly found one that suited him. A sire-by-hire contract. "Given who you are to us, the no contact clause needs to go," he murmured as he struck that line.

Ratchet nodded, thoughtful. "You will keep this from your creation as well?"

There was serious hesitation on Prowl's part and _question_ pulsed along the bond.

"It's not something it needs to know when it is little." Jazz pointed out reasonably. "We can always decide later what to tell it, and how much."

Relief was there. His mate could always answer the questions he couldn't. Where logic failed, Jazz knew.

"Yes, at first," Prowl decided. "That doesn't need to be in the contract, however. Our amended Last Wishes will detail handling the information should we be unable to survive long enough."

"And we can detail those and change it as things go along." Jazz nodded, stroking his mate gently.

"Very reasonable." Ratchet agreed. "I will abide by your wishes. All of the details, as you already said, will be in sealed medical records. It is important."

"Agreed," Prowl did not hesitate as he ran the final version of the contract through his tac-net. "Nothing about this is worthy of risking its health. Not when all this is _for_ its health."

Jazz had been leaning over, watching the changes as his mate had worked, but leaving this up to Prowl. Prowl was the one who _needed_ this, and the most important was that the Praxian was comfortable with the details. He really couldn't imagine that Prowl would want something that he objected strongly to. Not in this.

Another klik of silence and Prowl handed the contract to Ratchet to read and sign.

The contract was broad, but nothing less than Ratchet had expected and as well thought-out as he expected from Prowl, even Prowl in this state. Essentially, the fact that he had donated energy to the sparkling never happened, as far as the world at large was going to be concerned. Prowl and Jazz would be its creators, its only creators. With that in mind he placed his formal designation glyph at the end, full acceptance of what they were asking.

Prowl visibly relaxed a fraction as he took the contract back, added his formal designation glyph and handed it to Jazz to do the same.

"Let's do this before I can think of a reason not to," Prowl said quietly but firmly, a stark reminder that he was very much coerced into this, it was just a source of coercion that Ratchet could not object to.

"Here?" Jazz asked, looking from Prowl to Ratchet as he questioned the soundness of that proposal. The datapad was tucked away, a second formal copy could be made later if Ratchet wished.

"I'll remember you," Prowl reached up to draw his mate into a kiss.

"It is a merge," Ratchet added. "Here is as safe as anywhere."

Jazz sighed softly, the kiss one of agreement as he slowly shifted things around, placing himself behind his mate as one hand caressed the main dataport cover. It slid open immediately, something that Prowl rarely did. Even after so long and their spark bond, the Praxian was paranoid about exposing his processors.

"I'll join in when he's thoroughly distracted," Ratchet said quietly.

Jazz nodded, but most of his attention was focused on his mate as he tipped Prowl's helm to claim a kiss. His other hand circled the dataport, caressing the sensors gently. Prowl's soft moan and returned kiss encouraged him, as did the field that never failed to rouse when pleasure was on offer between them. With a pulse of reassurance and love over the bond Jazz slipped a cable into the dataport and was shocked to find not a single firewall in his path. There was only Prowl, stressed, vulnerable without his tac-net and needing reassurance from his mate that this was the right thing to do, that this wouldn't harm the unity that was _them_.

~We will be always be us. Unless some orn _we_ find someone else that completes us even more, my spark will always be yours, and I will always desire yours with all that I am.~ Jazz promised him, drawing Prowl slowly into the place in his processor that was full of light, hope, and joy at the possibility before them.

He nudged his mate in the direction of the sparkling _they_ were creating. Offering the could be, would be, in the end when they held their creation and each other, and ignoring some of the bumps along the road.

Prowl willingly came along, amazed at what Jazz could imagine and reveling in the love his mate held for him here, in his thoughts, as well as in his spark. Prowl never doubted Jazz's spark loved him, but what Jazz's processors did with it never failed to leave him slightly stunned at the beauty of it.

~ _All_ that I am love.~ Jazz purred. ~You are _perfect_.~ Everything that he offered over the hardline correlated that. How he saw Prowl visually. Emotionally. Everything that made Prowl who he was to Jazz was perfect.

Jazz offered that, touching Prowl where their minds met as his hand stroked alone his mate's chest armor, asking for more. Asking for what would allow that dream a chance to be reality.

~Just ... just keep me here,~ Prowl nuzzled against his mate's mental presence and pulled the images closer as he unlocked his chest plates and brought his spark chamber forward. It was slower than it would be for his mate, but it was willing and Prowl's field told them all so. ~Hold me, my love.~

~Always.~ Jazz promised once more as he drew them into the hopeful future he had created in his processor. He kept just enough of a sensor on the room to know when Ratchet moved, watched as the merge progressed and how quickly the medic managed to overload. Prowl barely had a buzz from it, so much had been absorbed by the newspark.

After he drew back, Ratchet waved a hand in front of Jazz's visor to get his attention. "If you can keep him this calm for another breem, I can give a second transfusion now. The newspark will need it," he said when he was reasonably sure Jazz was with him enough to understand.

"Yeah, I can do that. He's pretty content to see my ideas for the future," Jazz smiled fondly for now much Prowl enjoyed this.

Ratchet nodded and lowered his spark close again, coaxing Prowl's chamber to open.

Jazz watched with detachment for a moment, then focused back on his bonded. ~Designing a sparkling frame, I can't wait to start. Ideas?~

Prowl leapt at it. ~Praxian, with a visor.~ He purred at the first images. Black and white with a blue visor like Jazz's.

~Oh love.~ Jazz purred, his approval of the images flaring bright. ~With your intellect, it will be a stunner.~

~Your creativity and lateral thinking would be a terror to raise, but such a wonderful mecha with a few morals,~ Prowl purred, drawing up what he loved about his mate. ~Whichever it focuses on, we'll teach it to be loyal and to care, to know to keep its promises and stand by friends and what is right.~

~Yes.~ Jazz agreed, trading images with his mate, hopes and dreams. This time as Ratchet's overload had enough was left over after feeding the newspark to cause Prowl to moan.

~My perfect love.~ Jazz said with a mental smile as he looked over at Ratchet, still stroking and caressing Prowl.

"Everything is well?" Jazz asked the medic when he shakily moved away, ready to claim Prowl as soon as he had Ratchet's permission and assurance that all was well.

"Yes," Ratchet managed to respond, disoriented by two overloads close together. He struggled to get off the berth and sank to the floor next to it to recover. "All yours. I'll let myself out, when I can stand."

Jazz made a mental note to have energon waiting for the medic the next time, and possibly see if Prowl would allow First Aid to be present to escort Ratchet if the medic needed it, before he took Ratchet at his word and focused back on Prowl.

~And now I get to pleasure my love. What does he desire of me?~ He asked, teasing and eager over bond while Prowl's armor settled itself.

Prowl's moan was of a very different tenor now, eager anticipation as he turned enough focus on his frame to turn and embrace his mate, claiming a kiss that was heated and eager. ~Fill my valve, then my spark with _you_.~

~As my love commands.~ Jazz purred, laughter escaping him as his spike cover snapped away his spike pressurized between them.

One hand cupped Prowl's helm, holding it as Jazz claimed his mate's lips in kiss full of desire. The other reached down to ghost over Prowl's valve cover, the lightest of feather touches asking and teasing. 

Prowl moaned and pressed into the touch as it snapped open while his own fingers explored and teased the long-familiar spike. With a smooth motion he rolled them over so Jazz was sprawled on top of him and between his legs. ~Fill me, my love. Make me scream your designation.~

~Loud enough for the entire base to hear.~ Jazz agreed as a fingers slipped into the valve, testing and still teasing. The slick heat rippled around his fingers, seeking to draw him further in as Prowl moaned and bucked against his hand shamelessly. ~Everyone will know who you belong to.~

~You, only you,~ Prowl nearly keened his desire. ~Please, fill me.~

Jazz smiled and let the desire over the bond speak instead as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his spike, frame quivering at the grip of the slick heat as he sank deep into his mate.

"Never tire of you, of this." He said as he pulled back and thrust in, each motion deliberate and matched perfectly by the mech under him. "Of feeling you all around me, of bringing you pleasure. Of being with you, the only one for you."

"Yes," Prowl's entire frame undulated into the blissful rolling rocking of their interface. "No one else is for me," he gasped and gripped Jazz's shoulders, trying to ground himself from the intensity of hardlining while interfacing.

"Scream for me." Jazz urged as he placed small, sharp nips on his lover's helm and neck, soothing each with a kiss as he continued to drive into the other mech. This was a pleasure he rarely experienced, feeling not only the physical pleasure of his mate through field and bond, but the added layer of processor as well. And Prowl's processors were amazing- powerful and potent even without the tac-net online. To feel how willingly they molded to Jazz's desires, willing and eager to please and be pleased was an intoxicating power to have.

"Jazz!" Prowl's voice echoed threw the room shamelessly as he screamed his mate's designation with all the harmonics of bliss and desire.

"Mine." Jazz growled, firm and possessive as he shifted, changing the angle of his thrust, every motion and emotion leaving no question as to how much he desired the mech under him.

Prowl was a treasure that few had been willing to see. And Jazz had claimed that treasure for himself with the intent of never sharing it again. He could never express how grateful he was that once he had shown Prowl what pleasure was and how desirable the Praxian was that Prowl had never wanted to be with another. It was a gift beyond any other, to know that Prowl loved him that much, that he fulfilled everything Prowl needed so completely that the brilliant mech never looked elsewhere.

Without holding back Prowl suddenly tensed and _screamed_ as an overload crashed through him with all the subtlety of a hurricane.

The sound was unique music to Jazz, sending a shudder through his entire frame. Not pain, but an expression of pleasure that he and only he could cause.

It was hard to hold on. To not follow his mate into that bliss. To hold Prowl close, and to begin sliding in and out of his mate once more as Prowl came down from the overload high.

His hand reached up to caress the broad chest, smoothing over the bold frame in request back by words. ~Want to see your spark. Want to feel it next to mine. Please, my love.~

Armor parted before he'd finished asked, love, trust and desire flowing across the hardline. ~But you didn't overload.~

~Because I want it here.~ Jazz purred, all intent as desire as his fingers caressed the crystal that surrounded his mate's spark. ~I want to fill your spark with everything I have. Fill you completely.~

Prowl moaned, trembling at the implication and desire. His spark flared outwards as the chamber spiraled open. ~Yes.~

Fingers dipped into the crystal chamber, caressing the first layers of light and teasing the tendrils that reached out before Jazz could take no more. With a moan of anticipation his own armor parted, barely moving out of the way in time as his own exposed spark reached out in a desire to be complete. It was welcomed, embraced and reveled in by Prowl's as much as Prowl had reveled in Jazz's processor space. Pleasure, energy, desire, love, trust, safety, devotion all flowed freely between them as the energy began to build once more.

Mutual feelings swirled together as their sparks merged, losing themselves in one another with the desire to be one.

All of them. Some part that was still Jazz reminded his mate, his intent somehow clearer here. How he had held off the first pleasure to give Prowl the strongest overload possible here.

Thanks replied, understanding and joy enveloped Jazz as their awareness whited out from the energy spilling from their sparks. The first steps to a future that they had given up on so long ago, now once again alive and bright with hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1  
> Author: gatekat, starsheild on LJ  
> Pairings: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/?  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: Sticky, Spark, Mechpreg, Hurt/Comfort  
> Summary: Jazz and Prowl are content together even though they can never have sparklings. Then the impossible happens and their safe, content relationship is thrown into turmoil by a choice that Prowl can't make.  
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> Spark Colors:  
> Jazz: medium blue  
> Prowl: ice blue
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter
> 
>  
> 
> From [http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13204992t13204992](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13204992)
> 
> A mech gets sparked up by his partner even though it shouldn't have happened. His carrier protocols were blocked a long time ago, because of a specific reason: all the newsparks he created with his partner before had dissolved/extinguished. Each time it meant pain, grief and terrible sense of loss. After some time it's been proved that there's something in the mech's partner's coding that essentially rules out the possibility of creating a spark able to live on its own. The pair accepted the fact that they wouldn't have sparklings. They are - when the story starts - okay with that and happy together.
> 
> Somehow though the blocks on the mechs' breeding protocols fail and the newspark begins to form. It's - as it happened before - really weak and is going to disappear after some time. Unless - unless - the pair decides to make a difficult decision and ask a third mech to contribute his coding to stabilize the newspark. Which means - for the pregnant mech - interfacing with someone else than his partner. Perhaps multiple times. And to him that thought is terrifying.
> 
> The problem is: the pregnant mech is incredibly faithful to his partner. Never have been attracted to anyone else, never even thought about being with anyone else, the thought of having sex, "cheating" on his partner makes his skin crawl. He's shaken, horrified and unable to think straight: both "betraying" his partner and losing another newspark seem to horrible to deal with. The poor mech just wants to curl up into a ball and die.
> 
> Solution: finding a right mech. Who, along with the mech's partner, will be able to convince the terrified bot that this situation has nothing to do with cheating, that it won't betray the partner's trust, that it won't change anything between two of them.
> 
> Mech C has to be someone incredibly gentle, understanding and careful (so perhaps Ratchet or Optimus?). I don't have have any specific preference for Mech A and B. I hope someone would be able to write this angst&hurt/comfort!fest ^^'''


End file.
